


Diamonds All White

by oiivkawa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cop AU, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, I cannot believe I wrote those tags..., Kissing, M/M, Minor Violence, Stripper!Oikawa, Swearing, action (kind of), cop!iwaizumi, strip club au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 08:17:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11180745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oiivkawa/pseuds/oiivkawa
Summary: When the music above his ears increased to a faster pace, the dull beat thrumming against his eardrums, Iwaizumi’s attention was taken back to the empty stage.It wasn’t empty for long though.There had been people appearing all night, none who had really warranted Iwaizumi’s attention – mostly because he doubted they had anything to do with the backside business of the club – but when a figure appeared, all smiles and practiced poses, clothed in a white button-up shirt, black slacks and suspenders, Iwaizumi couldn’t take his eyes off of him.





	Diamonds All White

**Author's Note:**

> huh, well, this is a thing now. it'll be short - I have it planned for only 3 chapters and well, hopefully I'll stick to the only 3 chapters thing lmao. it was actually supposed to be a one-shot... then it got to like 11k in my drafts and I went "nope" let me just make this chaptered instead so I have something to look forward to working on. 
> 
> this style is kind of different from what I usually write and is more thought-based rather than dialogue so eek, we'll see if it actually works out >.<
> 
> hope you enjoy it all the same!
> 
> disclaimer: I might be slow to updating this fic!!

It had been far too long since Iwaizumi had been assigned an undercover case. He had gotten so used to being stuck in the office behind a desk ever since his promotion to detective that he hadn't had much time for anything besides working through cases. It was gruelling and tiring, but satisfying too when he was rewarded with a solved case or a lead after hours, days, _weeks_ of pouring everything he had into his cases. 

His team was solid, his solve-rate was high, and Iwaizumi was generally _proud_ of the work he had accomplished.

Still, the stuffy office desk, the cold interrogation room, and the inside of his unmarked, black squad car on the occasion that they had a suspect to question had become his entire life for the past year.

It was strange then, to be out at a club – a _strip club_ for that matter – for the very same reason.

He had never been opposed to undercover work, especially when it was for his own case. He had started off as an undercover cop anyway, fresh out of the academy at the age of twenty-one. The first time he had gone undercover had been a pain – it was a new experience and entirely nerve-wracking and Iwaizumi had been certain that he’d fuck it up. Somehow though, he turned out to be a natural and most of his work since then had included undercover work.

There had always been a thrill associated with it; a sort of adrenaline rush that going into a place and taking on a new identity brought along. 

He ended up liking it a lot more than he thought he would, but it was how he made his way through the ranks of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department so quickly.

He always had been good at it, which was why despite his rank, he had been asked to take on this role once again by his superiors.

He thought of himself as a humble man and would never brag, even to himself, but doing his job right, being good enough get a promotion so early on in his career, being so _versatile_ even as a cop was something even he was proud of. 

He had worked damn _hard_ for the reputation he had earned, and although he was modest about his position, he was still proud of all that he had accomplished.

Tonight though, Iwaizumi wasn't allowed to think of his job in the way that he knew always was. He was dressed in different work attire: black slacks, shiny black shoes, a crisp white-collared button with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a grey silk tie, hanging around his neck loosely.

It was his first time in this sort of establishment, but Iwaizumi had already taken on his role. He wasn't Iwaizumi Hajime the detective anymore. He was just Iwasaki Satoru, a man who worked a nine to five job in an accounting firm

A man who was just looking for some excitement in his otherwise boring life.

He had looked over the files all weekend and then quickly again in his car, parked conveniently two blocks down the street, before he made his way into the club. Still, it _had_ been too long since he had done this kind of work and Iwaizumi couldn’t blame himself for being a little nervous.

Worried even, considering he was here alone.

Not that it was a big deal.

He was more than capable of handling himself, especially considering most of what he was doing was more recon than undercover work if Iwaizumi was being honest with himself.

He had taken on many more dangerous tasks before and comparably, this was nothing. He had spent two years undercover in a drug ring in Tokyo, travelling between the city and Korea where the drugs were coming from. He had no jurisdiction there, and it was a dangerous mission, but he had done it and had come out successful.

He had spent another six months in the _home_ of one of Minato’s largest drug lords, another eight working his ass off to be inducted into a low-level Yakuza syndicate.

Iwaizumi had been beaten, tortured, put in a situation where his chances of dying were marginally larger than surviving and he had done it _all_ successfully.

Yet, a part of him was still thrown off by the atmosphere in the club: the dark red leather booths, the classy bar stools, and the finely crafted details in the crowning around the entire building.

Everything seemed detached, like they were separate entities but somehow they fit together as one under the warm, low lighting and the musky scent of cologne and something else… something more uncensored.

Another part of him was taken in, even mesmerized by it.

The stage in the front was the only source of light bright enough for Iwaizumi to be able to make out more than just a person’s eyes on their face. He hated not being able to completely see his surroundings, but those were his cop instincts kicking in. He felt agitated, but he had to remind himself that in this kind of a club, there was no _need_ to see everything after all.

The mood fed off the low-lighting, the seductive gazes of the workers, the fancy alcohol, after all, and he was supposed to be _fitting in_ not standing out. He tried to loosen his tense shoulders with a whiskey, but even then, he had only finished half of the glass. So he tried to feed off the atmosphere of the club, let himself be taken in by his surroundings instead.

The entire place was finely crafted, made to make the patrons feel comfortable, relaxed, like they were the only ones in the club, like everything had been catered to _them_ even among the loud cheers and music playing from the speakers above his head.

It was devious and entirely professional. Iwaizumi could understand why people who had the sense to create an atmosphere so _intimate_ were able to do more if they put their minds to it. Good business sense, he couldn’t help but admit, even if he hated it.

Even _if_ it made his job more difficult.

He had been sitting in his corner booth for two hours, and he hadn’t been able to make out anything interesting. It _was_ his first day though, and he hadn’t expected to find anything just _sitting_ there, but Iwaizumi didn’t know how to make headway. He had tried to speak to the bartender briefly, but he hadn’t seem all that interested in making conversation.

Some of the women working the floor were better conversation, but all Iwaizumi got out of them was the name of the club owner – although he already knew that much. Still, at least they were talking to him and Iwaizumi made a mental note to push further when he next had the chance.

That _was_ who he was looking for after all. Chiba Saburo, the owner of the _White Diamond_ strip club – he had recently come under his division’s radar when three suspects were brought to custody after a rise in drug activity in an otherwise quiet neighbourhood.

Iwaizumi and his team had been working their asses off for two months when they finally got a lead on Chiba Saburo, but he was a good businessman and knew how to cover his trail.

So far, there wasn’t any information that could lead them to getting a warrant on the club, which Iwaizumi was _certain_ Chiba was using as his base of operations.

But that was _his_ job. He was young – he had only turned thirty that year – and with his experience, Iwaizumi was the best one to send in on the recon mission.

He felt out of place and out of practice though. He could worm his way into gangs no problem, but a _strip club_ was out of his league. Still, Iwaizumi was never one to disappoint anyone, _especially_ himself.

When the music above his ears increased to a faster pace, the dull beat thrumming against his eardrums, Iwaizumi’s attention was taken back to the empty stage.

It wasn’t empty for long though.

There had been people appearing all night, none who had really warranted Iwaizumi’s attention – mostly because he doubted they had anything to do with the backside business of the club – but when a figure appeared, all smiles and practiced poses, clothed in a white button-up shirt, black slacks and suspenders, Iwaizumi couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

Iwaizumi told himself that he was just being a good cop, that he was just getting into his role so that he could execute it properly, since he _had_ been rather stiff all evening. He told himself that when his eyes were glued to the front, _mesmerized_ by the push and pull of the man’s movement it had _nothing_ to do with the way the man on the stage started rolling his hips.

Iwaizumi wasn’t sitting particularly close to the front, tucked off in a corner booth, but his angle was good enough that he had a clear view of the stage. Still, he found himself craning his head to get a better look, completely unembarrassed by the way his grip on his whiskey glass tightened to the point where he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore.

He drank in the sight of the tall man who had unbuttoned his shirt now and had pulled down his suspenders so they were hanging loose against his thighs.

It was just his job, it was a trick to make people want to come back the way he looked at everyone like he was interested _only_ in them for the moment their eyes locked, but Iwaizumi downed it all anyway.

He didn’t care if it was an act; he relished in the man’s movements, from the way his fingers danced on the edge of his smooth stomach, grazing the space between his hips and what was below but never quite giving his viewers what they desired. He clenched his teeth tightly, when the dancer on the stage teasingly slid his thumb into the waistband of his pants, pulling down slightly to reveal his hipbones, jutted and angled to perfection.

He moved with practice efficiency that had even Iwaizumi on the edge of his seat, mind swirling with lust, mouth dry and body hot from just watching him move so fluidly.

 _This is his job. This is what he’s supposed to do. Of course he’s going to be good at it_ , Iwaizumi reminded himself.

It didn’t stop him from forgetting _his_ job though and what _he_ was supposed to be good at as he unabashedly stared, swept up in the act playing out on the stage in front of him.

The man was there for only one song before he was replaced by two others, moving back into the shadows of the black velvet curtains behind him like he hadn’t been there moments ago; like he _hadn’t_ just made Iwaizumi want to growl in want and frustration.

But the breathing room was welcome.

As soon as the dancer retreated, it was like the low fog surrounding the club had suddenly lifted, even though when Iwaizumi stared at the mahogany hardwood floors beneath his feet he was painfully aware of the whitish-grey tufts of smoke around him.

But his lungs felt clear and the oxygen flowed through his body easier, eyes adjusting to the dim mood lighting in the club once again.

He didn’t question it when he felt the pressure that had seemingly clenched around his chest release its grasp. He looked around him, wondering if others had been affected in the same way, but they were already paying attention to the new duo on stage, which Iwaizumi tried to pay attention to as well, but couldn’t find himself attached to in the same way he had been just a few moments earlier.

He had never felt so _off-balance_ and it was disconcerting.

He ordered a second whiskey to help clear his mind, knowing that it would do no such thing. But he did it anyway, and when it came, he downed it all in one go, ordering a third glass. He slowed down then, only because the stage had cleared and someone new had appeared. He couldn’t help but let his eyes linger across the black velvet curtains that divided the club from its workers on the other side, hoping for another look at that dancer that had capture his attention.

Iwaizumi was rewarded when the door next to the stage shifted and that same man he had been waiting for stepped out. He had changed out of his earlier clothes and Iwaizumi felt a wave of disappointment hit him at that until he realized that he looked just as good, if not better the way he was dressed now, so casually, clad in a baby blue button down shirt with the buttons undone all the way, and dark jeans, hanging low on his lips so that his sharp hipbones were clear and visible for everyone to see.

The fabric of his shirt swayed with every step he took, making Iwaizumi’s already clouded mind feel even foggier. The smooth planes of his stomach, angled and cut to perfection were teasing every time he moved, making Iwaizumi uncomfortable in his seat because he kept getting closer, and the view kept getting clearer.

Something about the way he moved was captivating, even when he was doing nothing but placing one foot in front of the other, just like anyone else did.

But it wasn’t _just like anyone else_ , and he wasn’t _just anyone else_.

Iwaizumi couldn’t help but let his eyes fall down the length of his slim hips; they swayed slightly with every step, and it looked so _natural_ that it almost made him angry.

With want, jealousy or _both_ was the real question though.

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure how someone could walk like that, so confident and calm, but when his eyes drifted from his long legs and strong hips to his face, he was suddenly overcome with raw excitement.

His face was nothing like the rest of his body. It screamed _innocent_ in an entirely unconventional way; a stark contrast to his finely crafted body.

His brown hair was swept across his forehead, the locks in the front damp from what looked like sweat and maybe some water he had splashed on his face when he was out back. He had an unlit cigarette between his lips but it looked out of place between those pale, pink lips, hidden underneath a small slightly upturned nose.

He looked soft, almost angelic and if Iwaizumi wasn’t painfully aware of _where_ he was and just _what_ this man’s profession was, he would have almost believed it.

He was also young – he looked much younger up close, and Iwaizumi wasn’t sure if that was just his naturally good skin, or maybe he _was_ that young. The thought made his stomach drop, because how could someone like _him_ be working in a place like _this_?

It was his eyes that captivated Iwaizumi’s attention though. They were brown like so many others that Iwaizumi had seen but they swirled with some kind of hidden fire, almost shifting to a lighter gold colour whenever he swept them over the patrons in the club. They remained focused, _clear_ , like he was gazing into everyone he saw with some kind of clairvoyance.

The way his emotions never reached his eyes was what threw Iwaizumi off. His eyes were expressive on their own, but his face seemed hollow in comparison. He picked up his drink, gulping down hard when those brown eyes locked onto his own hazel ones before seemingly picking out their target.

The man passed by the tables, shaking his head with a practiced smile whenever anyone offered him a light for his smoke, denying the offers. Iwaizumi wasn’t even sure why he had the stick between his lips if he wasn’t going to light it up but the way it drew the attention of everyone in the room to his mouth gave him a pretty good reason behind what his motives were.

 _Tease_ , he couldn’t help but think. But he made it work, and Iwaizumi wasn’t immune to his smoulder either, as much as he tried to deny it.

He skilfully made his way to the front, eyes landing on the empty seat across from Iwaizumi. He almost smiled then, but it seemed more like a smirk, or maybe it was Iwaizumi’s fleeting imagination: a mixture of the alcohol in his stomach and the dim lights of the club that were making him see things he wasn’t sure was from want or from fear.

Iwaizumi would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. His breathing quickened, but he blamed it on the liquor, and not the way the mesmerizing sway of the man’s hips had the entirety of his attention.

He tried and failed exceedingly, from keeping his eyes on his face. Instead, he found them lingering on the hard muscles of his abs, half-hidden beneath his open, blue button down. It was a soft colour, pretty even, matching perfectly to the man’s innocent face. But the muscle beneath it was crafted, and something entirely mature.

His low hanging pants did nothing to ease Iwaizumi’s lust and the man _knew_ his appeal as he moved with some kind of delicacy, mixed in with a lot of confidence.

Iwaizumi couldn’t help but take in the contrast of his movements to his supple face. He turned the corner of a table, hips swivelling to avoid hitting the chairs around him, which caused his shirt to open up a little more, giving Iwaizumi access to those sharp hipbones again, if only for a brief moment before they were gone.

 _Tease_ , the thought rang out again.

He couldn’t actually believe it; no he didn’t _want_ to believe that the man was heading his way. He sipped at his drink again, looking for some kind of purchase in the liquid that burned his throat but it did nothing to ease his beating heart. The dim, orange lights of the club reflected off the man’s face, making Iwaizumi incredibly aware of his delicate features that looked as if they were crafted by the gods themselves.

The man was simply too beautiful, which Iwaizumi corrected to _ethereal_ when he slid into the booth right next to Iwaizumi instead of taking a seat across from him.

Up close, Iwaizumi could see that his flawless face had a splattering of freckles across his nose and his impossibly large eyes were even larger than he had thought they were. Somehow though, they added to his charm, making Iwaizumi swallow hard around the lump in his throat.

This wasn’t what he was here for. He was here to do a job; but he reminded himself that observing _everyone_ in the club _was_ his job, and he let that thought take over if only so he had a reason to waft in the company of this godly man.

He didn’t say anything when he sat down, only hummed in acknowledgement when Iwaizumi shifted slightly to make room for him – so that their thighs _weren’t_ right against one another if only for his own sanity.

It took a while, but eventually Iwaizumi found his words again, grunting a “Good show,” that he didn’t even know he was capable of. He blushed immediately, embarrassed that the words had even come out of his mouth.

The man seemed to find amusement in that though; he swung his head around to face Iwaizumi before leaning his arm against the table and placing his chin in his palm like it belonged there.

“How would you know? You’re too far to see anything,” he commented, seemingly amused by Iwaizumi’s frown and reddened cheeks.

Iwaizumi shook his head in denial. Maybe he couldn’t see the lines of the man’s torso as clearly as he could see them from this angle, or see the individual strands of his hair all lined so artfully against his head, but he _had_ seen his movements and they had been captivating enough.

“Still good,” he muttered, unsure where he was going with the compliment. Or _why_.

But then again, why was the man even speaking to him in the first place? Why had he walked over and chosen Iwaizumi to sit with when there were plenty of other people in the club who would want him too. Who _did_ want him, if the jealous stares were anything to go by.

“Want to see it again?” he asked casually, causing Iwaizumi to tighten his grip against his glass, looking for some kind of solid hold that would keep him grounded to reality.

He didn’t know what the man meant by the question, but that didn’t stop him from licking his lips slowly to get rid of some of the dryness that had taken over his entire body before slowly nodding his head.

“Come by tomorrow. Sit near the front when you do,” he instructed.

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure why but he nodded, before hoarsely replying, “Yeah,” only to be met with an almost smile. He watched the man’s lips twitch slightly, his head never leaving his palm. He looked openly into Iwaizumi’s eyes, unembarrassed, unyielding.

Eventually, the intimacy of the action became too overwhelming and Iwaizumi was forced to cough and turn away.

“I will,” he repeated again, unsure if the man had even heard him the first time, or why he felt the need to say the words again, clearer than before. Something about the way he actually smiled, slipping the cigarette back between his lips like it _belonged_ there made Iwaizumi think that he heard what he said the last time too.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he answered eventually, sliding away from Iwaizumi. He pushed his hands down against the leather booth to give him leverage to push away, but he used that opportunity to let his hands lightly graze Iwaizumi’s thigh. He looked him in the eyes one last time, letting his hands linger against the material of Iwaizumi’s black slacks while doing so before moving away.

He didn’t turn back once he was already making his way back to the front. Iwaizumi half expected him to sit with someone else, to play out the same routine he had executed on Iwaizumi but he didn’t. He opened the door he had come in from and disappeared.

Iwaizumi stayed an hour longer after that; when the man didn’t make another appearance, he grabbed his suit jacket, paid his tab and left the club without a second glance.

He was painfully aware that he hadn’t gotten a name, and that maybe next time, he would. The thought was dangerous and unlike him, so Iwaizumi filed it away in the back of his mind along with the worst of his cases that he would never want to revisit.

Still, when he went to bed that night, mind considerably less foggy but still clouded, the thought made its way back to the front of his brain, and this time, Iwaizumi was too weak to do anything but let it stay there.

* * *

He came back again the next day after work.

 _No_ , he reminded himself that he was there _for work_. The voice at the back of his mind however knew that wasn’t the case. He may have officially been there for work, but he was personally there for one reason – one _person_ , and one person only.

Iwaizumi contemplated sitting near the front – he had said he would the next time he came and he was usually a man of his word – but he ended up choosing the same booth he had been in the night before.

Something about watching that man up close was enthralling as much as it was intimidating. The excitement that the thought alone brought had Iwaizumi taking a step back and deciding that for his sanity, and his career, he was better off staying where he was: safely tucked into a corner where he could see the stage just fine to appreciate the people on it, but far enough that he wouldn’t be thinking of the intricate details when he fell asleep that night.

The man didn’t appear until almost closing this time, and Iwaizumi was on the edge of his seat in anticipation until he showed up. He should have scouting the area, talking to other people, making headway on his case... but he didn't. 

Having to wait so long for who he had come for did give him a chance to observe the others in the room, to take in who came in for the shows and who came in for something else. He was able to focus on his job, what he was _really_ there for much better this time. But when the stage lit up and the otherworldly man walked out, Iwaizumi was on the verge of forgetting everything that he had managed to learn at just the sight of his pale, delicate features.

He was too perfect, Iwaizumi decided.

From this distance, he couldn’t make out the freckles on his face or the curve of his pretty pink lips that Iwaizumi wanted to see wrapped around something other than the fingers he had currently occupied in his mouth but he had seen them all up close and personal just yesterday and so he imagined what it was like from the distance.

He found that he didn’t even need to be up at the front to appreciate what the man could do and he cherished the quiet intimacy that the corner booth brought him.

He didn’t think that his not making good of his promise would have any effect or if the man had even seen him there that night, but apparently he remembered what Iwaizumi had told him and he _had_ seen him sitting in what he deemed was his favourite booth.

It was only when the waiters were ushering everyone out and Iwaizumi was standing at the corner of the street, wondering whether he wanted to walk home or taxi considering the wind had picked up did he realize just how big of a mistake he had made by choosing not to abide by his promise.

He felt a tap at his shoulder and he turned around, face half-covered in his scarf, arms folded and gloved hands tucked into the pockets of his grey pea coat, only to be met with the face of the man he had quietly come to see that night.

The first thing Iwaizumi noticed was that he was really tall, something that had evaded his notice when they were sitting so close to one another. The second thing he noticed was that he was frowning, which was odd considering the only expression he had seen up until then was a hint of a smile and a smirk. This was the most amount of expression Iwaizumi had seen on him and it was disconcerting.

The frown didn’t suit him but it made Iwaizumi’s heart speed up in anticipation all the same. The next thing he noticed was that his cheeks were pink, uncovered from the biting wind and it made Iwaizumi want to touch the softness of it, so he did, hesitantly, before he realized what he had done on impulse and brought his hand back down.

The man’s eyes flashed at the gesture, but the shock was gone in an instant, almost as fast as Iwaizumi had been in lowering his gloved hand to his side.

“You didn’t sit near the front,” he said bluntly, making Iwaizumi take a step back.

The wind was still nipping against his skin but under the dancer’s scrutinizing gaze, Iwaizumi’s whole body felt like it was on fire.

He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to that, so he didn’t. A deep frown etched itself into his face, causing a wrinkle to appear in between his eyebrows in frustration. He didn’t know why, but the man’s comment had made him feel like an asshole. The way his eyes flashed dangerously only confirmed his feelings.

He didn’t owe him anything, but Iwaizumi also didn’t like to be made out as a liar.

He wasn’t. Or, he had never been until then.

How he was supposed to explain though, that he didn’t want to _share_ the way he looked at the man with the others around him without sounding like an even bigger asshole was beyond him. So he remained silent, which seemed to make the man in front of him tilt his head and his eyes widen in brief curiosity.

“You didn’t like the show?” he asked, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

It was too innocent for the setting, and the action made Iwaizumi want to be the one to bite his bottom lip, take it between _his_ teeth instead.

The thought caught him by surprise, the dancer’s question even more so. He shook his head quickly enough to dispel that thought.

He _had_ liked the show.

Maybe a little too much to be considered professional.

But maybe _this_ was his way in. Maybe letting himself indulge in his own personal wants would end up working out in his favour with his case.

Somehow though, he didn’t care about that; not when he had made the man in front of him think that the way he moved could have anyone disliking it.

“I didn’t think you cared,” Iwaizumi blurted out, embarrassed by his reaction as soon as the words had come out of his mouth.

But it was too late to take them back now, and it didn’t seem like they had caused any harm, despite their unkind connotation.

Instead, his confession earned him a hum, as if the man could read Iwaizumi’s heart with just that answer alone.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” he asked, but the way he said the words so confidently had Iwaizumi thinking that he already knew the answer. He nodded to confirm it all the same. “Hang around after closing on Friday,” he instructed.

He made to turn away and in a moment of weakness, Iwaizumi extended his hand and grabbed his wrist. He was surprised by his boldness, and dropped the hand immediately embarrassed and ashamed of himself, but the action brought him what he wanted. The man turned back around and stared at Iwaizumi with wide eyes and a questioning look.

“What’s your name?” Iwaizumi asked quickly.

That seemed to get his attention. In a flash, that lilting smirk was back in place. “Come back Friday and maybe I’ll tell you,” he smiled.

He didn’t wait for Iwaizumi to reply before he turned back on his heel, and Iwaizumi could do nothing but watch him go, the end of his long black coat swishing against his calves as he disappeared back into the club. Iwaizumi wasn’t sure why, but the idea that he had come out only to speak to him made his heart hammer against his chest in a way he didn’t think was possible.

That night, he let himself indulge in the fantasy that had been playing in his mind when he had watched the man on stage. He jerked himself to the thought of what it would feel like to have such soft, pink lips wrap around him instead of his hand. He was painfully aware of how long it had been since he had last had sex, but it was the thought of watching that beautiful, _stunning_ man look at him with his large, innocent eyes while he took Iwaizumi to the hilt that had him coming all over his hand.

He felt embarrassed afterwards, and a little like he had degraded the man, but that didn’t stop him from falling asleep to his face. What he did in private was his business and as long as he didn’t project it, there was no harm in a little fantasy.

That’s what he told himself anyway, when he woke up hard and uncomfortable the next morning and he couldn’t help but relieve the pressure in his groin to the thought of the same tall, pretty man again.

**Author's Note:**

> Oikawa's outfit inspired by [this](http://hingdoong.tumblr.com/post/158072218531/oikawa-3) wonderful piece of art! 
> 
> *sweats* apparently jerking off is a common theme in my fics now... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> let me know what you thought! your comments and kudos are always appreciated ♥︎


End file.
